Favourite things

Phoebe and I were snuggling in bed the other morning and I decided to ask her about her favourite things. Just to make conversation. 

"What's your favourite colour?" I asked. 

"Umm...all of them!" she said. 

"I feel that," I said...because she seems to have inherited my own dis/satisfaction with everything in the world. I simply don't understand how to choose a favourite colour. That feels like too big of a commitment. I admit to feeling drawn to certain colours of certain items at times, but I don't feel like I often seek out specific colours for things...if that makes sense. All colours are beautiful. 

"What's your favourite animal?" I asked next. 

"Ooooh! Dood question...all of them!" she said. 

"All of them?" I asked.

"All of them—dogs, cats, horses, giraffes, lions. Just all of them."

"So what about spiders?"

"Not spiders! I do not like spi...well...nice spiders. I still like nice spiders."

"And snakes?"

"If they're nice."

"So you just like animals in general?"

"Yup. Hey, Mom—you know, like November, January, February, April, June, May, July and August?"

"The twelve months of the year? Yes, I'm familiar. Should we sing them?"

"Yes. But first, what's your favourite schedule?"

"Oh, my favourite schedule is when I get a good amount of sleep and wake up feeling ready for the day, and where I have a list of fun and challenging things to accomplish, but not so many that I feel stressed out...just enough to keep life interesting. What's your favourite schedule?"

"Mom!" she laughed. "Babies don't even have schedules!"

And...that's mostly been true for my babies. At least, I mostly have never figured out their schedules (except for Miriam). And...that's fine. The point of this story is mostly that I have a hard time picking favourites because I feel like so many things are wonderful (or, on the other hand, equally awful) and I seem to have somehow passed this trait on to Phoebe. 

*****

There's an evergreen question of whether you prefer the ocean or whether you prefer the mountains. I'm always never quite sure about this because I think both places are pretty great. I was raised with my feet in the Pacific Ocean, the Rocky Mountains at my back. I know there are times when the mountains have taken my breath away, when I catch my breath and just marvel at their majesty...so I'm not saying that I'm necessarily picking sides or anything, but...

When I waded across the soft white sands of the beach today, and looked out at the sun setting over the brilliantly clear blue water,* and listened to the waves rolling in and my children shrieking with glee...I found myself wondering how so much perfection could be crammed into a single moment in a single place on this large planet (and how lucky I was to get to witness it all). 

* setting over the water is key—I'll admit that it wasn't quite setting over the water, but it was close enough as far as I'm concerned because if it's one thing I know I prefer it's sunsets over the ocean, which really doesn't ever happen on the east coast for obvious reasons)

So, perhaps I like the beach. I do. I absolutely like the beach. But I also know that I've felt that same feeling in other places, too. Sometimes we are just so incredibly lucky. 

Just look at that sunset almost over the water:

Miriam, Grandpa, and Darla came to the beach with me and the younger kids. Rachel and Andrew went to the store to secure some provisions for our stay.

The sunset was perfect.

The water was perfect.

The sand was perfect...if only a little laden with stinky seaweed...

The waves were perfect.

Miriam found the perfect shell.

Phoebe hated wearing her lifejacket but also does terrifying things like diving headfirst into the waves. It's so hard to tell if she's purposely throwing herself headlong into the water or if she's...struggling. The ambiguity was a frustration for both of us, but she had the time of her life. 

Here she is with Grandpa:

Here's Miriam:

Here's Benjamin showing off a live mollusk of sorts:

Here's Alexander:

Here are Benjamin, Zoë, and Alexander with the sunset:

Moi:

And Phoebe, singing and splashing in the waves:

May every day end so beautifully this week, is my wish. I would wish it for everyone, but I know it's not possible. And that makes me feel at once so lucky, and so sad. 

Today I had some news clickbait pop up on my phone that said, "Antarctica's 'Doomsday Glacier' is melting fast—and major cities are in danger. Plus, a big change is coming to HBO's Max, and more." 

The very fact that climate change crisis and HBO Max can even be mentioned in the same little attention-grabbing soundbite is...incredible to me. But it felt like a good summary of current events. 

Don't even get me started on starving children in Gaza. Today my friend shared some videos of children—covered in dust from their world crumbling around them, broken and bleeding, and just shocked into silence—and my heart broke again. It isn't really fair that I'm having a lovely, essentially carefree day, while other mothers are living through nightmares and it just drove home how utterly random—and, yes, unfair—it is that I got to be in this spot experiencing perfection today. 

So it was a perfect day tinged with some melancholy.